


A Thousand Tiny Pieces

by Claranon



Series: The Princess and the Knight [4]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: DQXI Men Suffer 2019, F/M, Field trip time!, Hendrik is so dense he's probably incapable of floating in water, How long will the UST/URT tags remain? Unclear if author even knows, Some more of the gang finally pops up, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-14 00:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: Sir Hendrik journeys with Princess Jade and is tested in some unexpected ways. How much can one poor soldier of Heliodor handle?





	1. Northern Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so _maybe_ the whole "Hey if I just do it in a vignette-style series it'll be quicker and shorter than chapters!" plan didn't quite pan out how I wanted it to.
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> (Super duper thanks to [Flutiebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear/) for the encouragement and help!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hendrik encounters current friends and former enemies, neither of whom are without their complications.

The Sniflheim smithy was a sweltering, clamorous place, belying the chill of the air outside. Hendrik found himself sweating almost immediately upon entry despite the frost still clinging to his clothing.

The head of the blacksmiths’ guild raised a hand in greeting from his place at the forge and Hendrik returned it. The man appeared to be instructing his trainees in proper swaging technique, so the knight did not approach further. He instead hung up his cloak and took a turn about the room, inspecting the men and women at various tables scattered throughout and occasionally asking questions about their tasks. Most were too busy to be distracted by his presence, which Hendrik was grateful for. His undesired fame was an inconvenience at the best of times, but most especially when, like now, he sought some few moments of leisure.

He was watching a young woman meticulously detailing the pommel of a vicious-looking knife when the guildmaster finally finished his lesson and came up beside him, brushing ash off his blackened apron. The smith was a man of middle years with powerfully muscled arms and chest as a consequence of his chosen career.

“Well met, Sir Hendrik,” he said in a booming voice. “I’d heard you were in town.”

“Well met,” Hendrik inclined his head. “My apologies for not having visited sooner; my duties at the castle have kept me occupied this past week.”

The smith laughed, a thunderous sound that rattled the tools on the table nearby. “Leave it to the Great Sir Hendrik of Heliodor to arrive just after the swordmaster falls ill and needs someone to fill in for her.”

“It is an honour to be asked,” Hendrik replied dutifully. “I often perform such services when visiting other kingdoms; the differences in regional technique are stimulating to explore.”

“Well, there’s no one to fight around _here_ ,” the guildmaster declared, grabbing a heavy apron off a nearby hook and holding it out. “But I might have an altogether different challenge, if you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” Hendrik said, eagerly taking the apron. “Let us proceed.”

He had long held an interest in the smithing arts after some rudimentary instruction in his youth. The head of the guild here in Sniflheim was renowned in Erdrea for his skill, and Hendrik made an attempt to stop by whenever he had opportunity to visit the frozen realm. His own prowess at the forge was adequate at best, but he nonetheless took a deep satisfaction in working with his hands as he further developed his craft.

The knight spent an agreeable afternoon at the smithy, receiving instruction from the guildmaster and debating the merits of platinum versus mithril for heavy weaponry. At one point, by request, he laid out his greatsword for examination; when he mentioned that it had been forged by the Luminary himself, the eyes of the trainees turned starstruck and even most of the senior smiths were craning their necks to have a look.

The sun was starting to sink below the horizon when he bid farewell and exited to the chilly streets once more. Hendrik tugged his cloak further up around his neck, thankful that he was not encased in steel. It was as yet mid-autumn in Sniflheim, but the difference from Heliodor’s temperate climate was palpable to one who had called the latter home for nearly three decades.

He had just crossed through to the main plaza when a voice came from the shadows of the looming Æsteinn and stopped him in his tracks.

“Hm hm hm! And what has the noble knight been up to all afternoon? Nothing naughty, I hope?”

Hendrik turned. The witch Krystalinda was perched on one edge of the fountain, smiling at him with narrowed eyes.

“I should hardly think it any of your concern,” Hendrik said coldly. His hand unconsciously gripped his sword hilt and he did not check the impulse. Queen Frysabel counted the witch among her closest friends, he knew; but the knight had ever been wary of the convenience of a former enemy’s unexpected change of heart.

Krystalinda uncrossed her legs and rose, approaching him in the sultry strut that seemed second nature to her. Her garb was as indecently-clinging as always, but Hendrik kept his gaze fixed firmly on her face.

“Hours away from the castle,” she mused, languidly circling around his stiff frame, “no one to account for your whereabouts—it’s almost enough to wonder if you’ve been visiting some of the more salacious structures in the city.”

Hendrik bristled and his knuckles whitened on his pommel. “You dare imply—”

The witch laughed, stopping in front of him with one hand on a cocked hip. “Such a temper, Sir Hendrik! You’re much less fun than your lovely friend was. A pity _he’s_ the one who had to get wrapped up in that messy mistake.”

The mere mention of Jasper was enough to send Hendrik into a foul mood with better companions; for Krystalinda to invoke his memory nearly had the knight drawing his sword before he again recalled the queen’s fondness and resisted the impulse—though only just.

“Do not think that I have forgotten the evils you perpetrated against the people of this kingdom,” he said instead, voice as icy as the air around them. “I would ask that you not test me, for Her Majesty’s sake.”

Hendrik deliberately stepped around the smirking witch and was about to continue on to the castle when again she spoke.

“Ah yes, the famous knightly duty to crowns and countries,” Krystalinda drawled from behind him. “I wonder if your pretty little princess knows just how far your _devotion_ extends?”

“You—” The knight whirled, a sudden rage springing up within him. The witch was nowhere to be seen, the plaza deserted around him.

“Have a care, Sir Knight,” her voice whispered to him on the wind, an odious caress across his skin. “If you don’t act first, who knows who might?”

All sense of her presence vanished. Hendrik stared for a time at the space where she had been, breathing deeply through his nostrils until the air felt as though it were cutting his lungs.

 

* * *

 

His mood had not measurably improved by the time he returned to his chambers. The queen had set aside a suite of rooms for her royal guest and her companions, now fully occupied after the arrival of the twins the day previous. The rooms were spacious and well-appointed and individually opened up to a shared sitting room in the centre. Hendrik could hear conversation floating in from behind the closed door when he walked in and he idly listened as he removed his outer garments.

He immediately recognized Princess Jade’s voice, of course, and took but little time to discern the others. Veronica’s strident enthusiasm identified her within a sentence, and Serena’s quiet gentleness in another. Erik was further simplicity in being the only other male in attendance for the visit, but his sister appeared not to be among their number that afternoon.

The young thief was speaking of her at the time, however: “...I think it’ll be good for her. She’ll probably kick up a fuss at first but she should be spending time with girls her own age for once. And who knows? She might even learn something.”

“Mia will certainly pick up better _manners_ at the Academy than she has tagging along with _you_ everywhere,” Veronica interjected unkindly.

“Who says I don’t have manners?” Erik argued. “I’m here on invitation of a _queen_ if you’ve somehow forgotten.”

“Yes, because of _her_ connections,” Veronica shot back, presumably gesturing to the princess. “Don’t pretend you’d be allowed within a _mile_ of the royal treasury otherwise.”

Erik sputtered in response and Hendrik heard Serena sigh.

“I wish you two wouldn’t antagonize each other when we so rarely have a chance to get together like this,” the young woman chided.

“I’m not sure they would even know _how_ to get along at this point,” Princess Jade remarked with amusement.

Hendrik smiled faintly to himself as he unbuckled his sword and rested it in a corner of the room. It was heartening to hear how happy the princess was to be among her friends once more, especially when he had seen but little of her these past two weeks. Their voyage to Sniflheim had been lashed with storms and she had spent much of the time belowdecks, forbidding him from coming near her in her indisposed state. Then, of course, most of his spare hours here at the castle had been occupied in the training hall.

Regardless, it was a pity Sylvando and the others had not been able to attend. Hendrik resolved to urge King Carnelian to invent a reason for her to travel to Puerto Valor soon after their return to Heliodor; perhaps with the Luminary.

The knight poured out a basin of water to wash the ash and soot off his face before he joined the others, continuing to listen to their chatter in the meantime. He was most certainly above the dishonourable act of eavesdropping; this, he reasoned, was merely ascertaining the flow of conversation prior to his arrival—no different than reading reports from a battlefield before entering the fray.

A sincere, justified reasoning—and one entirely put to the test when the discourse abruptly turned to Hendrik himself, just as he approached the door to the sitting area.

“So what’s it like spending all your time with _him_?” Erik asked, and Hendrik froze in the act of reaching for the doorknob. “Doesn’t that knightly stuff drive you crazy after a while?”

“It’s not that bad,” Princess Jade replied lightly. “Hendrik’s just a little...single-minded sometimes.”

“Yeah, single-minded enough to throw me in the _dungeon_ for a year,” Erik grumbled.

“Well, you _did_ steal one of the royal treasures of Heliodor,” the princess pointed out somewhat archly.

“It’s not like anyone was using it!”

“ _I_ think it was probably good for you,” Veronica interrupted. “It’s not like your career as a thief ever really took off. Have you actually stolen a single other thing in your entire life?”

“I’ve stolen _plenty_ , thanks,” Erik said crossly.

“Oh, yes, a wonderful role model for your sister, then,” was the diminutive sorceress’s reply, and the two devolved into bickering again.

Hendrik, still standing with his hand outstretched, suddenly realized that all his noble justifications had crumbled to dust around him: he _was_ eavesdropping now, and a spike of shame coursed through him. He set his shoulders and took hold of the doorknob, ready to enter the sitting room and—

“Anyway, you didn’t _actually_ answer the question, Jade,” Veronica said mischievously, and again Hendrik was helpless to move. “What’s it really like having a strong, handsome knight at your beck and call?”

“Veronica!” Serena exclaimed. “Don’t tease her.”

“You read all the same stories _I_ did growing up, Serena,” Veronica sniffed, and Hendrik strongly suspected—borne from experience—that she had tossed her head in accompaniment.

“Are we seriously talking about this?” Erik asked incredulously.

“Apparently,” Princess Jade sighed. “Though I’m not altogether sure I _would_ call it serious.” It was with a strange mixture of relief and something else—something he refused to call disappointment—that Hendrik once again heard the undercurrent of amusement in her voice.

“Don’t think you can get out of it that easily,” Veronica retorted. “Come on, Jade, you can’t tell us you’ve _never_ thought about it.”

Hendrik leaned against the door, breath held as he waited for the princess’s response.

“Would someone— _anyone_ —please save me from this,” Erik groaned, and the knight could have strangled him in that moment; although he would have been horrified at his behaviour afterward, of course, and earnestly made amends to the young man.

As it turned out, however, Hendrik was instead Erik’s inadvertent salvation: for upon an unconscious tightening of his hand on the doorknob, the latch suddenly gave way and the door swung open, sending the knight stumbling into the room.

Hendrik froze, his body contorted into an awkward, half-crouched position. Four blank faces stared at him.

The moment stretched on, seemingly without end.

“Hendrik,” the princess finally said in surprise.

His paramount duty to properly greet the daughter of his liege jarred Hendrik back into action. He rose from his crouch with excruciating slowness and inelegantly converted it into a bow, gaze lowered and hand held to his chest.

“Princess Jade,” Sir Hendrik said with a gravity not often heard outside of state funerals. He felt a flush creeping all the way up his neck and determinedly ignored it.

When he lifted his head, it was to a tableau exactly in line with what he had expected. Serena was sitting on the couch, eyes wide and a hand to her mouth; Veronica was beside her, eyes identically wide but with a dangerous smirk starting to form; Erik was in his own armchair, brows impossibly high on a disbelieving face.

And the princess: sitting in her chair with legs crossed, one hand idly resting near her face as she was wont to do. Her head was tilted and her eyes followed Hendrik as he straightened from his bow.

He dearly wished at that moment that their months of close companionship had better taught him how to decipher the numerous unfathomable expressions she deployed around him. As it stood, however, he could glean a hint of questioning, but nothing more.

Hendrik delicately coughed into his fist. “My...apologies to you all. I was about to join you, when I lost my footing and...fell through the doorway.”

They took some time to process that, and he felt his flush increase exponentially with every second. Eventually Erik broke the silence.

“Well, it, uh—happens to everyone, I guess?” the thief said dubiously.

“Are you quite all right, Sir Hendrik?” Serena asked earnestly, leaning forward in concern.

“Yes, I hope you didn’t accidentally damage your _ears_ at all,” Veronica added, the burgeoning smirk now fully realized on her face.

“No, I am...quite well, thank you,” was all Hendrik could think to reply. He hesitated for a moment, then quickly walked over to an empty chaise nearby, sitting down stiffly on the cushioned surface.

Princess Jade had remained silent, but he could now see the smallest of smiles on her face. Her tone, however, was businesslike as she gestured to an envelope on the table beside her, and Hendrik had never been more grateful for her mercy.

“I’ve had a letter from my father,” she told him. “There’s a labour dispute with the stonecutters guild and he’d like us back earlier than we intended.”

“Ah,” Hendrik said, straightening up at being given an order—by proxy—from his king; the world shifted and righted itself again. “When do you wish to leave, Your Highness?”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed, resting her head against her raised hand. “Probably as soon as possible. We’ll be a week at sea, anyway, and I suppose this means we’ll have to cancel our visit to Rab on the way back.”

“How about I take you?” Veronica offered. “I can Zoom you both to Dundrasil and then you can make your way to the coast from there.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Veronica, thank you,” the princess smiled at the girl.

“Hold on,” Erik interrupted, staring at Veronica with narrowed eyes. “Since when do you know how to Zoom?”

“Do you not remember who taught the Luminary in the first place, idiot?” This time Hendrik _did_ see the girl tossing her becapped head.

“But then—why did you always make _him_ do it?” the young thief demanded.

“The spell makes me feel a bit woozy,” she sniffed. “Besides, he never seemed to mind.”

“Seriously?” Erik asked in disbelief, and the two resumed their usual interaction. When Hendrik next stole a glance at his princess, she had a look of fond contentment on her face; the smile she gave him when she caught his eye was enough to warm him down to his very toes.

 

* * *

 

Sir Hendrik had long categorized his relationship with the thief Erik as that of a wary neutrality. The men had too contentious a history together for it to be elsewise, and any discussion of the comparative seriousness of the ills inflicted upon each other would doubtless prove futile. They each of them kept the peace for the Luminary’s sake and more or less left it at that.

On one thing, however, they found they could form a steadfast alliance: that banquets, balls, receptions, galas, and any other such formal absurdities, were to be avoided at all costs.

“You too, huh?” the young man asked Hendrik as he entered the second floor balcony carrying a gilded mug in his hand. Erik cut a rather dapper figure in his black and red ensemble, but the sour look on his face somewhat spoiled the overall effect.

“Indeed,” Hendrik acknowledged with a nod. The knight wore a mostly unadorned outfit himself, pointedly devoid of anything even resembling a cravat. It offered little protection against the chilly air outside, but some swords he was more than willing to fall upon, given a distressing enough alternative.

Bright lights and loud music spilled out from the open archway until the heavy door swung closed of its own accord. Upon learning of her visitors’ impending departure, Queen Frysabel had thrown together the festivity on short notice, eager to bid farewell with proper fanfare. The princess had been flattered and the twins delighted; their other two companions, decidedly less so.

“Man, these royals sure know how to make a spectacle,” Erik remarked as he joined Hendrik, several deliberate feet of space left between them. The thief placed his mug on top of the balustrade and turned, leaning against the railing on his elbows and tilting his head back to look at the night sky.

Hendrik grunted. He had been gazing out at the snowy mountains surrounding the palace and idly marking the time until courtesy demanded his return to the party. Though he had chosen this balcony foremost for its vacancy, he found the sudden company not unwelcome.

An unusual burst of camaraderie with the thief led Hendrik to volunteer a response: “Despite their inconvenience, one does grow...accustomed to such revelries, in time.”

At Erik’s skeptical glance, he added: “Somewhat.” The young man huffed a laugh.

All was silence for some minutes. Then Erik grabbed his mug off the balustrade and took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Jade mentioned you stopped by Cobblestone before your trip—how was everyone?” he asked.

“Quite well,” Hendrik replied. “The Luminary was at Dundrasil, but the princess enjoys spending time with his mother regardless. She rather treats Her Highness as an adoptive daughter at this point.”

“Hm. That’s nice for her.” Erik cleared his throat and gave Hendrik a sideways glance. “It’s good that you guys are so close. You know, so he can have some of his friends nearby.”

“We do not visit as often as the princess wishes, perhaps; but it is a comfort to her as well, to be sure.” Hendrik was not altogether certain where Erik’s comments were leading, but the rare amicable interaction was such a pleasant novelty that he was well prepared to humour the young man.

Erik nodded and was about to respond when the door opened and both men’s heads swivelled to see the new arrival.

As if summoned by thought alone, Princess Jade came out onto the balcony holding two flutes of champagne in her hands. Hendrik’s breath was caught all over again at the sight of her in the stunning high-necked gown she had procured for the occasion. Her long dark hair, simply arranged, flowed around her as she approached.

“There you two are,” she said, a sly look on her face. “I know better than to expect Hendrik to enjoy a party, but you, Erik?”

“Hanging out with a bunch of nobles isn’t really my thing,” he groused, crossing his arms defiantly.

“You’re friends with a prince, a princess, _and_ a former king,” she pointed out as she joined them at the balustrade, filling in the space between the two men.

“You guys are different,” Erik told her. “You’re not—stuffy.”

“True,” the princess agreed. “We generally leave that part to Hendrik.” Before the knight could properly formulate a _thought_ let alone a reply to that, she held out one of the glasses to him. “Here.”

Hendrik automatically took it despite his confusion. “What is this for, Princess?”

She paused and tilted her head at him. “I was told you wanted it,” she replied, frowning.

“I had not asked; but I thank you, nonetheless,” he said, inclining his head in a bow. She was close enough to him now that a faint hint of her floral perfume had travelled to his nose, and he found his mouth going dry despite himself.

“It doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Princess Jade shrugged, lifting her own flute up to her mouth. “What were you two talking about?”

“Cobblestone, Your Highness, and the Luminary’s friends there.”

The princess had been watching Hendrik as he explained, drinking deeply from her glass; but then the thief started to speak and she turned her head toward him just as she swallowed.

“Hendrik was saying he’s been at Dundrasil a lot lately,” Erik added, “and I thought maybe—hey, Jade, are you okay?”

Hendrik looked sharply at the princess. The flute was still at her lips and her hand seemed suspended in place. Her eyes had gone vacant and there was a peculiar expression on her face.

“Princess?” the knight asked, concerned. He placed his untouched glass on the railing next to him. “Are you unwell?”

Princess Jade slowly lowered her hand in a mechanical motion, gaze still unfocused, and deliberately put her glass down beside Hendrik’s. Then she turned away from him entirely to give the thief her full attention.

“Erik,” she breathed in a low, husky voice.

Hendrik froze. Erik, on the other side of the princess, did likewise. They both stared at her.

“You’re looking rather... _dashing_ tonight,” she continued in that same sultry fashion, her eyes fixed on the young man’s face.

“Um. What?” Erik asked stupidly. Hendrik found his mouth moving soundlessly; he was somehow unable to budge a single muscle.

The princess, following up on her strategic advantage, closed in on the young thief with a bearing that could only be categorized as ‘predatory’. She reached out languidly with one hand and stroked a teasing finger down his chest. Something hot and ugly flared deep within Hendrik’s stomach at the sight.

“Don’t pretend you don’t feel this too,” Princess Jade practically _purred_ , moving yet closer as her finger continued its path downward.

“Hey— _hey—_ wait a second!” Erik yelped, grabbing her hand and wrenching it away. Hendrik could not even be agitated by such rough handling of his princess; better by far than if the thief had _not_ made such an action before her hand had reached its probable goal.

That thought alone—and its accompanying roil within him—snapped Hendrik out of his daze. “Princess Jade,” he said in a strangled voice, swiftly moving beside her and placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “What is the meaning of—”

“This has nothing to do with you, Hendrik,” she said coldly, shrugging off his hand. She turned back to Erik and was once more all seductive smiles and coy looks.

“I’ve always had a thing for Vikings, you know,” the princess said flirtatiously as she reached out to him again. This time Erik nearly tripped over his own feet backing away from her.

“I’m not—that isn’t—Hendrik, something is _really_ wrong here,” Erik said in a panicked voice, practically climbing up onto the balustrade in an attempt to escape the amorous princess.

Hendrik tore his eyes from the scene and mentally cuffed himself. The princess, whatever her state, was in need of a man of action, not one of vacillation.

“Wait here,” he called to Erik, already running to the door. “I shall fetch the twins at once!”

“No!” Erik shouted. He was now halfway across the balcony with the princess in hot pursuit. “Don’t leave me _alone_ with her!”

Hendrik stopped, torn between duties. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Very well. But be quick! I will attempt to keep the princess confined here.”

Erik gave him a grateful look and then turned to Princess Jade. He feinted to one side to draw the determined young woman out of position, then dodged around her and skidded across the floor as he dashed for the doorway. There was again a flood of light and music, and the door slammed shut behind him.

“Erik!” the princess called after him desperately. She crossed her arms and faced Hendrik with a pout. “Now why did he leave?”

The knight found himself entirely at a loss as to how to respond, either to her _or_ the situation at hand. Princess Jade was clearly under some sort of magical influence, the broader effects of which were unknown. It was imperative that Erik return with the sisters that they might discover both cause and cure before further harm befell her. Hendrik’s clear duty was to attend to his princess and ensure her safety in the meantime.

Why, then, his predominant thought was that she looked utterly _appealing_ standing in the moonlight, hair dishevelled, lower lip jutting out charmingly, was a mystery to examine at another time.

The princess brushed her bangs out of her eyes and sighed. “I hope he’ll return soon. It’s always so frustrating when they play hard to get.”

Hendrik cleared his throat and marshalled a response, inwardly wondering if the princess were speaking of some experience in the past. “I...believe he will be back shortly, Your Highness.”

“If he isn’t, I’m going looking for him. I wonder if he likes dancing.” Her eyes turned dreamy, even as her lips curled into a hard smile. “But even if he doesn’t, I’ll make him anyway.”

This time Hendrik could not help but acknowledge the surge of jealousy that coursed through him at the thought of his princess delighting in forcing a person _other_ than himself to dance. He turned to the railing and gripped it until his knuckles whitened, mentally berating himself for his foolishness.

So occupied was he by this internal castigation, that he almost missed her next words.

“Actually, why should I wait at all?” she asked, flipping a hand in the air for punctuation. “I’m going after him.”

Hendrik scrambled away from the railing and caught her wrist just as she had almost reached the door. Her gaze flew up to his.

“I think it best that you remain here, Princess,” he said tightly. “It is not befitting of a lady to chase after young men in public.”

His only warning was a narrowing of her eyes before Princess Jade whirled on him, kicking his hand away with one heeled foot and driving the other straight into his chest. Hendrik grunted, the breath torn out of him as he was knocked backward against the balustrade. The princess stood over him menacingly.

“I’ll go wherever I please,” she said in a cold voice. “And you can keep your hands to yourself.”

She then paused. “What would you know about ladies, anyway?” she added ruthlessly.

Hendrik knew that she was not herself, that her words and actions were not those of the princess he had vowed to serve and protect all the years of his life, but he felt his insides twist nonetheless. The idea that somewhere, deep down, she might actually think of him in this manner—

The door banged open and their heads snapped up. Three dark figures stood in the archway, silhouetted by the backdrop of the brightly lit party. The smallest one came forward and raised its hands, and a flash illuminated the balcony.

Hendrik blinked the stars out of his vision in time to see the princess’s eyes droop shut and her body start to slump. He sprang forward and caught her, half-cradling her in his arms as he sank down to the floor to cushion her fall. Her head lolled into the crook of his elbow, face pale but otherwise calm.

The others came onto the balcony and approached the knight and the unconscious princess.

“You know how to cast Snooze?” Erik asked Veronica. “Do you just have this whole set of spells you let _other_ people use instead?”

“I learned it recently. We don’t just sit around Arboria drinking tea all day, you know,” the sorceress said in a clipped voice.

Serena knelt down beside Hendrik and reached out to the princess, touching gentle fingers to her forehead. He watched worriedly as she closed her eyes for some moments, an uncharacteristic frown on her face.

“What is the matter with her?” he asked when he could no longer stand the suspense.

“It’s some sort of...beguilement, but not from a spell,” Serena replied. She opened her eyes again. “Has she had anything unusual to eat or drink tonight?”

Erik walked over to the balustrade and picked up the half-empty flute of champagne, wordlessly holding it out to the young woman.

Serena leaned in for an experimental sniff and then jolted back. “Oh! Yes, this is definitely it. Where did Jade get it from?”

“She came here with them,” Erik said before Hendrik could speak. He jerked his thumb at the knight. “ _He_ was supposed to drink the other one, but never got a chance before she went all weird.”

“Hmm,” Serena said, cupping her cheek in one hand. “I wonder..."

Hendrik had had enough of this useless speculation. He looked down at his sleeping princess, then back up to Serena.

“I care not how it happened,” he said forcefully, holding Princess Jade a little more tightly. “Will she recover? Need we procure an antidote?”

Before the woman could reply, two more figures appeared in the doorway and then Queen Frysabel rushed in, Krystalinda close behind her.

“What has happened here?” the queen cried, sinking down on the floor next to Serena.

“We think Princess Jade was slipped a potion of some kind, Your Majesty,” Veronica answered her. “We’ve been trying to figure out what it was.”

“Oh!” Queen Frysabel’s hands flew to her mouth. “How dreadful!”

It was by happenstance that Hendrik glanced over at Krystalinda while the women were talking. The witch was frowning down at the princess—not a frown of disapprobation or dismay, but one rather seen when a careful stratagem had unravelled before them. He knew, then, with a flash of certainty, at exactly whose feet he could lay this villainy.

“Witch!” he snarled, and everyone’s eyes immediately shot to him.

“Sir Hendrik? What is the matter?” the queen asked.

“Ask instead your foul companion, Your Majesty,” he grated. “This was _her_ doing, mark my words!” Hendrik unconsciously pulled Princess Jade closer, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

The group turned toward Krystalinda. She was still for a moment, hand on one cocked hip, and then she sighed and raised her arms in defeat. “Fine, fine—it was me.”

“Krystalinda!” Queen Frysabel exclaimed. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“And just _what_ did you do?” Erik asked accusingly. “Is Jade in danger?”

“Of course she’s not,” the witch rolled her eyes. “It was only a love potion. The pretty princess will be back to normal in an hour or two.”

“Treachery,” Hendrik snapped. “How are we to trust your words, witch?”

“Trust them or don’t,” Krystalinda shrugged. “Lock me up in the dungeon if you want. She’ll be fine in the morning—you’ll see.”

“I think regardless of whoever’s being locked up where, we need to get Jade to bed,” Serena interjected firmly, ever the healer.

As consumed as he was by righteous fury, Hendrik could not argue with this. He carefully slid his arm under the princess’s legs and stood, lifting her prone form easily. Serena and Veronica followed behind him as he walked across the balcony.

He paused at the door, casting a sideways glance at Krystalinda. The witch looked down at the princess then back up to him with a strange smile on her face.

“I will _not_ forget this,” he said in a voice as hard as orichalcum.

“I was only trying to help move things along,” she responded, gesturing vaguely. “How was I to know the lovely little thief would be here too?”

Hendrik did not feel this justified a response. He swept by her without another word and re-entered the hall with his princess in his arms.

 

* * *

 

He lay awake for some time that night, tossing and turning through his sleeplessness. Princess Jade was safely in her bed with the twins keeping watch, so he had no real cause for concern; but Hendrik could not help but wish _he_ had stayed by her side instead, damn the impropriety.

Flashes of memories played through his mind, over and over: Veronica’s suggestive questioning; the princess trailing a finger down Erik’s chest; full lips curled into a pout on a moonlit balcony; the contempt in her gaze looking down on him; Krystalinda’s knowing smirk as she protested her desire to assist with...what, he did not know.

Something did not make sense, something was just out of reach from him; but try as he might, the patterns never quite coalesced.

All the knight could do in the end was stare up at the ceiling and long for morning and its answer to the one question that desperately burned within him. It was nearly dawn when he finally drifted off into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

Weak sunlight was shining colourfully through the stained-glass panel of his window when Hendrik awoke. He squinted at it, blearily wondering why the sun’s position in the sky was so much higher than usual.

Realization flooded in at once and he scrambled out of bed, throwing on tunic and trousers with a speed not often employed absent a battlefield alarm. He had not been awake two minutes before he was grabbing the knob of the sitting room door and wrenching it open.

As it turned out, his determined plan to continue on to Princess Jade’s room proved unnecessary: the woman herself was curled up in one of the armchairs reading a letter, a half-eaten breakfast on the table beside her.

She looked up when he barged in, slightly out of breath from his groggy exertions. Her face was perhaps a mite paler than her customary natural glow, but otherwise unchanged.

The princess put aside her letter. “Hendrik,” she said in a subdued voice. All traces of that chilling arrogance were gone.

The knight stared at her a moment longer, nearly unable to believe her apparent recovery. Then the relief crashed through him and he made a low bow, hand at his chest trembling.

“Princess,” he said somewhat hoarsely. “To see you in health after the trials of last night...you cannot imagine how much this pleases me.”

When he looked up again, the princess was smiling slightly. “I really am fine, Hendrik,” she reassured him. “Veronica and Serena were very attentive. I sent them to bed a little while ago after they’d stayed up all night looking after me.”

Then she sighed, toying with a loose thread on her sleeve. “To be honest, the blow to my pride will probably take a lot longer to get over.”

Hendrik hesitated before venturing to speak: “Do you...recall anything of the night’s events, Your Highness?”

“Enough that I had to track down Erik and make a profuse apology earlier,” she replied, averting her gaze for the first time. “He stayed long enough to tell me not to worry about it and then ran off. I think he’s terrified of me.”

“I am certain he will overcome it in due time,” Hendrik declared, though secretly doubtful. The look on the thief’s face as the princess had chased him across the balcony was not that of a man who would soon forget his trauma.

“I also had a visit from the queen,” the princess added, and Hendrik’s focus snapped back to her. “She wanted to see if I was all right and assured me that she had taken Krystalinda to task for orchestrating this.”

“The witch should better pay for her crimes,” Hendrik grated, the latent rage within him swirling up again. His hand twitched for his absent sword, left behind in the room in his haste.

“Hendrik,” Princess Jade said firmly, at once every inch the commanding royal. It was enough to bring him up short, his back straightening stiffly.

“Queen Frysabel has been nothing but welcoming to us,” she continued, more placating now. “I don’t want to cause her any trouble.”

The knight warred with himself for some moments. To allow such a vile creature to escape justice was unthinkable; yet disregarding the wishes of his future queen, even more so. The princess watched him carefully as he grappled his way through the moral dilemma, his jaw working noiselessly.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he finally conceded, bowing slightly.

“Thank you,” she said with a relieved smile, and Hendrik felt no small amount of shame at having caused her concern over his behaviour.

The princess rose and gestured toward the hallway door. “You should get something to eat, Hendrik. I’m going to start packing up. I told Veronica early afternoon, if that’s all right?”

“Is it wise to leave before we are certain of your recovery?” he asked worriedly. “Would it not be best to stay another—”

“I can get Rab to have a look if there are any problems,” she replied with only a faint hint of exasperation. “I feel fine—really. Go to the kitchens before they’ve stopped making breakfast.”

“Very well, Princess,” he conceded, inclining his head once more. The mention of food had made him suddenly ravenous and he turned to the door to leave.

“Wait,” came her voice from behind him, and he automatically spun back around with a querying look.

Princess Jade was standing in the middle of the room, posture a far cry from her usual easy confidence. She bit her lip a moment, and Hendrik felt no small amount of alarm to see a faint redness on her neck and face. He had nearly resolved to retrieve the twins that they might ascertain whether this were some lingering after-effect of the potion when she spoke.

“Hendrik, I...apologize to you, too, for last night. What I said...I meant none of it, truly.“ The princess—despite her obvious discomfort—faced him directly throughout these words, eyes clear and earnest.

The knight found himself nearly overcome with conflicting emotions. Memories from that night; from the weeks and months previous; from every confusing, unsettling, _bewitching_ interaction he had ever had with his princess, all ran through his head in seconds. He knew not what to make of them, of any part of this.

But he was a soldier, through and through, and that had always carried him safely out of danger, no matter the battlefield. He swallowed hard.

“Princess Jade,” he choked out. “To accept an apology from a member of the royal house of Heliodor is more than I deserve. I exist but to serve, all the days of my life.”

She was silent for a time after this, eyes trained on his. Then he saw a flash of profound sadness cross her face before she turned away.

“I see,” she said mildly. “I suppose that’s settled, then. Now go fetch your breakfast, Sir Hendrik.”

Her tone was light but brooked no opposition. Hendrik bowed his acquiescence and they parted amicably, but his lingering unease took the whole of the rest of the morning to dispel.


	2. Memories of Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hendrik revisits old memories and learns a thing or two—despite himself.

Hendrik lined his hammer up with the nail, holding it steady in his fingers. There was no real difference between this and his work at the forge, he reasoned; surely it could not be so very difficult to bolster a simple wooden beam. His eyes narrowed and he took careful aim.

The hammer slipped and Hendrik let out a curse as it came down directly on his own thumb. He dropped the tool and shook his hand vigorously, trying to ease the throbbing pain.

“Oho! So the young knight _does_ have a wee bit of bark to him after all,” came a voice from down below.

Hendrik peered over the side of the half-thatched rooftop he was sitting on, rubbing his tender thumb. Lord Robert was standing on the ground grinning up at him with Princess Jade at his side. She was at least making an _attempt_ to hide her broad smile, Hendrik noted somewhat sourly.

“You obviously didn’t spend your formative years sneaking into the Heliodor Castle barracks,” the princess told the man beside her. “I heard plenty worse from the knights-in-training there—Sir Hendrik no exception.”

“Is that so?” Lord Robert asked with exaggerated interest, stroking his mustache.

Hendrik flushed at their teasing and deliberately started stretching his arms from side to side to conceal his embarrassment. He squinted up at the sun as he did so, gauging its position in the sky.

Dundrasil Town was filled with noise and activity that early evening. Children laughed and chased each other throughout the streets, merchants plied their wares in the makeshift market square, and many, like Hendrik, were assisting in the restoration efforts. It was truly extraordinary how much progress had been made in these short months of work; the people of Erdrea had rallied around the Luminary and his grandfather’s cause with admirable enthusiasm.

“Why don’t ye come down from there, Hendrik?” Lord Robert called up, drawing the knight’s attention once more. “I appreciate the help and everything, but it’s clear yer a far better soldier than carpenter.”

Hendrik nodded at the older man and made his way to the ladder at the side of the house. After he reached the ground, he pulled up his sleeveless tunic to wipe away the sweat on his face before walking over to join his companions.

He immediately noticed the princess watching him intently, a strange expression on her face. When he gave her a curious look, her eyes flew up to studying the rooftop instead.

“How fared your tour of the town?” Hendrik asked her.

“Fine,” she replied, still focusing on some point in the distance. “A little strange to see so many changes being made, though.”

“It's an excellent opportunity to fix some of the things that always bothered me, I say,” Lord Robert beamed. “Not the least of which will be expanding the size of my favourite pub threefold.”

He scratched at his chin and looked at them. “Well, what do ye say we go in search of some supper? I’m feeling a mite peckish.”

“We’ll join you in a bit,” the princess told him. “I need to get something from my room and I’m sure Hendrik wants to change.”

The knight gave her a grateful nod, strongly desiring to wash away the effects of the afternoon’s labour.

They bid the former king farewell and walked along the busy main street toward the mostly-finished residential district. Lord Robert had set aside a house for his grandson and whichever of his friends wished to stay at Dundrasil during their travels. The Luminary had but left that very morning, they had been told, and Hendrik was keenly aware of the princess’s disappointment; he foresaw a detour to Cobblestone in their future on the way back to Heliodor from the Emerald Coast.

All at once he and the princess were surrounded and Hendrik instinctively steeled himself for battle—before realizing that their ambushers appeared to comprise a party of eight-year-olds.

“Hello,” the princess greeted them with surprise.

One of the children, a scrappy slip of a girl with curly red hair, stepped forward. “Are you Princess Jade?” she asked wonderingly.

“I am,” the princess said, crouching down in front of her. “And what’s your name?”

“Isobel,” the girl whispered, obviously overcome to be asked such a question by a real princess.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Isobel,” Princess Jade replied. She held out her hand and Isobel took it with open excitement.

“Is it true you know the Luminary?” piped up another of the children, unable to keep silent any longer. “And helped him save the world?”

“Yes,” the princess smiled. “He’s a very good friend of mine—and Sir Hendrik here.” She gestured at the knight and he suddenly found himself the focus of several pairs of wide eyes.

“ _You’re_ Sir Hendrik of Heliodor?” Isobel squeaked.

“Ah...yes,” Hendrik said awkwardly. In truth, he had spent but little time in the presence of children after the princess’s disappearance, and seldom knew what to make of them. Lacking further inspiration, he made a modest bow to the group of youthful admirers. They giggled in delight and the princess’s smile widened.

“What do I need to do to fight baddies like you and the Luminary?” one small boy asked them earnestly.

“Well, a good training regimen never hurts,” Princess Jade said to him. “Talk to Lord Robert and he’ll set you up; he taught me everything I know.”

“And if you wish to pursue a career in knighthood someday, come to Heliodor to see me, or Don Rodrigo in Puerto Valor,” Hendrik added.

“Thank you!” said the boy, stars in his eyes at the prospect.

“We should probably get going,” the princess told the group. “It was very nice meeting you all.”

“Wait!” Isobel had been in whispered consultation with several of her comrades and turned back to Princess Jade before she rose from her crouch. The girl asked her a question in a voice too low for Hendrik to hear.

A peculiar thing occurred then: the princess flushed for the second time that day, and quickly glanced at Hendrik before she answered.

“I’m...not sure,” was her vague reply. Hendrik frowned in confusion.

She had regained her composure, however, by the time they bid farewell to the children and resumed their journey to the Luminary’s house.

“What manner of query was it?” Hendrik asked the princess as they walked, unable to banish his curiosity.

Princess Jade did not look at him as she responded.

“Only something a child would ask,” she said a bit distantly. “Nothing more.” And he was forced to be content with that.

 

* * *

 

They sat awhile with Lord Robert in the evening, talking together in his den before a crackling fire. His modest home was a far cry from the grandness of Dundrasil Castle, but it was warm and comfortable and filled with keepsakes and relics from his long years of travelling. He and the princess revisited many memories as she examined his collection, and Hendrik felt the depth of their fondness for each other, all the stronger for having grown in such difficult circumstances.

Eventually Princess Jade sat forward and covered a yawn with her hand. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for bed.”

“These auld bones havenae given up quite yet,” the old man told her. “I’ll be here awhile longer, if ye wouldnae mind keeping me company, Hendrik.”

“Of course, Lord Robert,” Hendrik nodded. He turned to the princess. “Do you require—”

“—an escort?” she finished archly. “No, I think I’ll be able to handle myself if any more gangs of children try to accost me.”

She stood and stretched her arms above her head. “I’ll see you both in the morning, then. We should probably leave by noon if we want to reach the inn before sundown, Hendrik.”

The knight rose briefly to acknowledge her with a small bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Try not to stay up _all_ night discussing your latest periodicals,” she tossed over her shoulder from the doorway. Hendrik turned bright red and the former king laughed.

“Och, she’s never forgiven me for not giving up _that_ habit,” he shook his head. “A man’s allowed to have a vice or three, I’ve always thought.”

Hendrik did not trust himself to properly respond to that; a change of subject seemed well in order. They spoke instead of the restoration for some time, and of Lord Robert’s hopes for his grandson’s eventual return to Dundrasil.

Hendrik was stirring up the fire when Lord Robert sighed and took a drink from the mug on the table beside him.

“Tell me, Hendrik,” he said, “how goes it at Heliodor? I dinnae get over there as often as I’d like.”

“Very well, my lord,” the knight replied. “His Majesty appears fully recovered from the villain Mordegon’s possession, and the kingdom is at peace.”

“I suppose they all are these days,” Lord Robert mused. “We live in fortunate times, lad.”

“Indeed,” Hendrik agreed, settling back down in his chair.

“What about Jade?” the former king asked then. “Is she adjusting better to being back home?”

Hendrik hesitated a moment before answering: “The princess yet finds the restrictions of royal life...chafing, at times.”

“That's no surprise,” the other man chuckled. “But knowing her, she'll be all right so long as ye give her something to hit every now and then.”

“Most frequently myself,” Hendrik admitted, unconsciously rubbing a phantom bruise.

“Has Carnelian got off her back yet about marriage?”

“Not as such, my lord,” the knight said with a small smile. “At times their discussions rather resemble one boulder attempting to convince another to move.”

“Ho ho! The royal Heliodorian stubbornness is a force to be reckoned with, for sure. She’s got her father’s heart and her mother’s fire.” Lord Robert sighed again. “Reminds me a lot of my Eleanor, if I’m being honest.”

Hendrik nodded but made no reply, instead sitting in compassionate silence while the older man stared into the crackling fire.

“Hendrik, lad,” he said, “I know I shouldnae ask this of ye, and Jade would be right put out if she knew I were…”

The knight looked over at the other man questioningly.

“I took care of the lass a long time, see,” he continued, “and watched her grow into the strong, stubborn, capable woman she is today. She’ll make a fine queen someday, no mistake; but she’ll need people, too—good people—to trust and rely on. Will ye be there for her through all that?”

The former king’s face was unusually serious as he met Hendrik’s gaze. The knight swallowed and his eyes suddenly stung around the edges.

“I will,” he answered, his voice cracking. “For the rest of my life, I shall stand beside her always. I swear it.”

Lord Robert nodded. “Good man. Yer a fine knight, Hendrik, and I know she’ll always value yer counsel. Ye both do yer kingdom proud.”

The two men spoke no further for some time; Hendrik stared into the fire and reflected on the simplicity of duty, so long a comfort to him.

 

* * *

 

Sir Hendrik shielded his eyes against the setting sun as he looked out over the endless fields that were all that remained of his homeland.

Princess Jade climbed up beside him on the knoll, sharing in the view. “We’re making pretty good time,” she remarked.

“Yes,” the knight agreed. “We should arrive at the inn by nightfall.”

He glanced down at her. “Had you accepted Lord Robert’s offer of horses, we might be well farther,” he added with a hint of reproach.

The princess brushed her bangs out of her eyes, unperturbed. “The town needs them far more than we do. Besides, you know I’m not used to riding long distance yet.”

Hendrik smiled slightly and let the matter drop. The princess’s years on the road with Lord Robert had erased most of her youthful training in horsemanship, and she had yet to spend any significant time reacquiring the skill. He made a mental resolution to find her a proper horse upon their return; perhaps from the same stable as Obsidian.

“Come, Princess—the day marches on,” he said aloud as he started down the slope, the young woman following behind him.

Truthfully, mode of transportation mattered little in a world now largely devoid of monsters. Bandits and marauders were ever a scourge, of course, but human enemies generally had better sense than to attack two travellers still armed to the teeth through habit, if not necessity. Avoiding the path to Octagonia further ensured the uneventfulness of their trip; he and the princess had reached mutual unspoken agreement to avoid the town, neither of them quite at ease with it for reasons unknown and unexamined.

Hendrik found himself keeping a tight rein on his musings as they traversed the rough dirt paths and gently rolling hills. It had been some thirty years since Zwaardsrust’s fall and he had long since grown skilled at avoiding those emotions that threatened to disturb the mental fortitude required of a knight. Now, with the demon behind its destruction finally brought to justice, he saw even less reason to dwell on old sorrows.

Try as he might, however, he could never quite escape the memories that flooded into him when he caught the scent of flowers on a stray breeze.

He saw the princess glancing at him every now and then, but she stayed mercifully silent. The sun had just dipped below the horizon when they reached the Warrior’s Rest Inn.

The innkeeper clucked his tongue and shook his head in response to Hendrik’s inquiry.

“Two rooms?” he said, tapping his fingers on the desk in an uneven staccato. “Afraid I’ve only got the one left—with a single bed in it, too.”

“Unacceptable,” the knight frowned. “There are no cots at all?”

“It’s the casino in Octagonia, you see,” the man explained with exaggerated patience. “Lots more travellers heading out that way these days. I can give you an extra blanket if that’ll help avoid any nighttime squabbles with your lady.”

Hendrik’s hackles rose and he was about to voice a strenuous objection when Princess Jade leaned over, placing a mollifying hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you don’t have a spare mattress at least?” she asked the innkeeper sweetly. “I’m afraid my large friend here will sleep in the stables otherwise, and we need a good rest before catching the ferry tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well. Perhaps I might have something in the back,” the man muttered bashfully, clearly already under the princess’s spell. The sight of him looking at her calf-eyed in response to such encouragement sent Hendrik’s mood further into blackness.

“That would be wonderful, thank you—” Princess Jade started to say, the beginnings of a devastating smile alongside, when an older woman poked her head out of the kitchen and interrupted her.

“What are you on about, Bertie?” she called to the innkeeper. “That merchant caravan left this morning—the whole upstairs is empty.”

“What?” the man blinked at her, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “Oh, right!”

He turned back toward the princess. “Yes, I’ve got your choice of rooms, actually, including two private ones. Will that be all right, my lady?”

“Perfect,” she told him, beguiling smile not wasted after all; the sight of it filled Hendrik with unease, and he was almost relieved when it disappeared.

They ate an adequate supper in the dining room and spoke on logistical matters pertaining to their trip. The princess declared herself tired not long after the meal and Hendrik was more than supportive of her decision to retire early. He yet had concerns about lingering effects of the potion she had consumed the other night and knew she needed her rest. That it put an end to the innkeeper’s constant mooning over her all evening, driving the knight nearly to distraction, was an added benefit.

Though unnecessary—and perhaps slightly ridiculous—Hendrik escorted the princess upstairs; it was a testament to her weariness that she could not muster but the slightest rolling of her eyes in response.

“Good night, Hendrik,” she said, pausing with her hand on the doorknob.

“Sleep well, Princess,” he bowed, and she disappeared inside.

Not yet tired enough for sleep, Hendrik grabbed a book off the shelf downstairs and brought it with him to his room. It was a history of Zwaardsrust, one he had read before, and he absently leafed through it until his eyes began to droop. Blowing out the candle on his nightstand, he settled down to rest, thinking last of the faint smell of flowers.

 

* * *

 

_The world was fire. It billowed out of houses, seared paths through the streets, rained down from the sky. He could smell the sickly stench of burning flesh wherever he turned, and knew not if it were human, animal, or demon._

_“Mother!” he cried out desperately, as any child would. “Father!”_

_His only response was the screams he heard from all directions, so impossible to distinguish between that they seemed instead to be the very kingdom shrieking out its pain and fear._

_He rushed down the cobblestone roads, trying to find a way back to the small cottage on the edge of town where he had been born. He had stayed out with his friends well past when he had promised his mother and he knew she would be so worried, so frantic for him, he had to get back—_

_Monsters everywhere, more horrifying than any of his nightmares made flesh. His saving grace was that he was yet small, and able to squeeze through narrow gaps in fences and duck under beams of wood torn from buildings. Others were not so lucky; it soon became as necessary to dodge mangled bodies as wreckage from the demonic rampage. He knew not if they were alive or dead, and did not stop to check._

_There, now, his home in the distance: flames had already engulfed half the structure and the roof had fallen in. He saw as he drew closer that his mother’s beloved garden was all trampled flowers and burning trellises._

_“Mother!” he screamed as he sprinted up the dirt path leading to the homestead. “Father! Lieke!”_

_An inferno burst out from the house when he tried to open the front door. He stumbled back and fell upon the ground, helpless tears streaming down his face._

_A snarl came from behind him and he scrambled around, frantically trying to get back on his feet. A brute of a monster towered over him and cracked a hideous grin, relishing in his terror. It opened its mouth to speak, or bellow, or devour him whole—_

“Hendrik?”

_The beast blurred in place and shifted, taking the form of a man with long, silvery blond hair, an expression of inhuman malice on his face._

_“Well, old friend,” he sneered. “It seems I have surpassed you at last. Behold the glory of my master’s work!”_

_The boy shrunk back as the figure advanced menacingly. His fingers searched blindly for a branch, a tool, a weapon—anything to stop this demon wearing the mask of a man._

_“Why?” he gasped for air, his chest heaving. “Why would you do such a thing?”_

_“‘Why’? You of all people ask me why?” The man laughed viciously. “Why is it that you always thought yourself so much better than me? Why was it always you who got just what you wanted?”  
_

_The helpless child looked on in terrified incomprehension as the malevolent figure came ever closer._

_“But not this time,” he smiled, a shivering, creeping thing. “I_ see _you. I see what you desire. And I know that you will watch, again and again, as it never happens to_ you. _”_

_A burst of energy shot through the boy and he finally regained his footing. He dashed around the side of the cottage, desperate to escape the demon. Its laughter nipped at his heels and flooded his mind with its cruelty._

_The back of the house had caved in and a piles of blackened beams were strewn all over the ground. Under one of them, he could see a single, pale arm sticking out motionlessly._

_It was his mother—no, his father—no, Lieke—_

“Hendrik!”

_No, it was a young girl with long black hair and a mischievous smile who was always getting into scrapes and dragging him right along with her—_

“Hendrik, wake up!”

_It was none of those. His frightened gaze followed the arm up and he finally saw the woman it belonged to: dark hair yet longer, amethyst eyes open in horror, a confident smile now vanished forever._

_He would have died for her. He_ should _have died for her, but she had never given him the chance. He had failed, he had failed, he had_ failed _—_

“ **Hendrik!** ”

He gasped and bolted upright in his bed, chest heaving unsteadily. He could feel sweat and tears mingling together as they dripped down his face. The room was dark, lit only by the faintness of the moon shining in through the window. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment and then blinked rapidly, trying to centre himself.

There was a slight movement beside him and he wrenched his head toward it.

She was there, perched on the edge of mattress next to him. Her long hair loosely framed her face and spilled down in front of her dark tank top. One hand was outstretched but not quite touching him and her eyes were wide with concern.

“Hendrik?” she asked hesitantly. Her fingers twitched but she did not move.

He could not answer; could not do anything but drink in the sight of her, so perfect he could scarce believe she was real.

“Hendrik?” she tried again, her brow furrowing worriedly as she looked intently at his face. “You were having a nightmare. I thought—I tried to wake you and—”

If it had been any other time, if this were any other place, if she were any other person, beautiful and whole and _alive_ beside him, then it may not have happened. But at that moment certain truths were inescapable, and he could no longer bear the weight of the doubts and denials that had plagued him these long months.

He reached out with trembling hands and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Jade,” he rasped against her skin, soft and warm beneath his lips.

She went rigid with shock for an eternal heartbeat; then she melted against him, wrapping her slender arms around his shoulders and tangling her fingers in his hair.

He let out a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut. The floral scent of her mixed and twisted with the jumbled echoes of his nightmare, and he instinctively tightened his grasp around her. She moved one hand down to brush light fingertips across his brow, his cheek, his jaw.

“It’s all right, Hendrik,” she whispered into his hair. “I’m here.”

He knew, then, sitting there with her in his arms and he in hers. He knew what he had failed to grasp for some time, what must have seemed so obvious to others with their hints and jests and veiled allusions.

He loved her. He loved her with everything he was and would ever be. Duty, propriety, honour—they were as nothing to him in that moonlit moment. The only truth that mattered was that which rose and fell with every breath she took.

“I’m here,” she said again, quiet and gentle; a lifeline for him to cling to.

It was almost with relief that he let her urge him to settle back down on the bed, still holding him close. The reassuring stroke of her fingers in his hair continued until he drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Hendrik woke slowly, an unaccustomed grogginess pounding in his head. His eyes felt hot and sandy when he attempted to open them and he quickly gave up on the venture, at least for the moment. He tried to turn over onto his back instead and felt a strange resistance against his arm—a resistance that made a mumbled sound and shifted restlessly in response.

The world screeched to a halt.

His eyelids, apparently able to work as normal when given sufficient motivation, flew open. His gaze immediately met a head of hair mere inches away, a shaft of morning sunlight shining on the dark strands.

Princess Jade was lying on the bed next to him, her body clasped in his loose embrace. She had settled down again after the brief disturbance and her breathing was once more the deep steadiness of sleep.

Hendrik found himself experiencing a very sudden, very quiet, very still spasm of sheer _panic_.

Memories of the previous night flooded in and he closed his eyes at the staggering depth of shame that washed over him. That he had had such a childish reaction to a nightmare, his first in years—that the princess had overheard—that she had come to him to offer reassurance—that he had _accepted_ it—that they had slept together like this, curled into each other, her backside positioned firmly up against his front—

A certain part of his body was reacting to the precarious situation with no small amount of enthusiasm, which was not by _any_ means of assistance in the present moment. As if unconsciously assessing his greatest weakness and zeroing in for a critical attack, the princess shifted in her sleep again, pressing further against him in a way that tore the air from his lungs and had him involuntarily tightening his arms around her. Only decades of intense training in abnegation kept him from rocking his hips against hers.

Hendrik took a deep, steadying breath and opened his eyes. A full retreat and regroup was essential—the swifter, the better.

The knight steadfastly ignored the insistent throbbing in his trousers and concentrated on extracting himself from the bed with excruciating carefulness. At one point the princess stirred as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath her and his racing heart nearly stopped in his chest. But again she settled and he was able to free it without further incident. The mattress jostled but slightly as he slipped off the end of the bed, and he managed to avoid any telltale creaking of the floorboards—thank the heavens—before he was out of the room.

Door safely shut behind him, Hendrik finally allowed himself to release a long, shaky breath. Before he could think better of it, he crossed the hallway to the princess’s room, seeking out the jug and basin the innkeeper had so _thoughtfully_ provided her the night before.

A few thorough splashes of the chilly water settled him in most of the more essential ways. Hendrik was reaching for a small towel when he caught sight of a flash out of the corner of his eye and looked down.

His pendant had fallen out of his tunic, glittering in the sunlight. He reached for it, hesitantly at first, and then gripped it tightly in his fist before grimly shoving it back underneath his shirt. How he could ever face his king again with head held high, he knew not. His oft-contemplated resolution to sequester himself on Mount Pang Lai for extensive training seemed even greater an imperative that morning.

He deliberately pushed aside all thought of troubling midnight realizations; a soldier concerned himself only with situations that obligated action, and no others.

The innkeeper and his wife greeted Hendrik when he made his way down to the common room, but quickly became scarce upon their understanding of his mood. He poked at the provided porridge listlessly, his stomach roiling with guilty disquiet.

The knight might have been surprised by the appearance of the princess had he not kept one anxious ear trained on the staircase throughout his meal. As such, when he heard her light footsteps descending from upstairs, he immediately swivelled his head around to look. The flush that had been burned into his neck since waking grew ever more pronounced.

Princess Jade stepped into the common area with an unruffled air about her. She had dressed in her usual travelling garb and her hair was tied up high upon her head. He wondered, in some traitorous corner of his mind, if she knew how exquisite she looked with it down instead, softly framing her face.

Hendrik attempted to shove such unhelpful thoughts as far away as possible—to another continent, ideally.

“We’ll have to leave within the hour if we want to make the ferry,” she said without preamble, sitting down at the table opposite him. The innkeeper’s wife silently brought her a plate of breakfast and she smiled her thanks at the woman.

Hendrik cleared his throat once, then again for good measure.

“Very well,” he managed to reply.

The princess nodded briefly at him then dug into her porridge with enthusiasm, clearly not sharing in his nervous loss of appetite.

He rested his spoon in the bowl and finally surrendered his own attempt. The clock on the wall ticked the minutes by loudly as she ate, and he struggled to compose some— _any_ —explanation for what in heaven’s name had occurred the night previous.

 _The old nightmare, replayed so many hundreds of times he had long ago lost count; the pain, the fear, the_ suffering _, bleeding into every heartbeat, every breath he took._

_The man he had once called friend, now only a ghost to haunt him; taunting, mocking, refusing to give the answers so desperately sought._

_The overwhelming realization that never knowing her fate had_ not _been the worst possible outcome, despite the lack of closure; it would always be worse, it could only_ ever _be worse, to see her crushed and broken before him, the light gone out of her forever._

It would be a falsehood to say he worried over her refusal to grant him forgiveness. Princess Jade’s compassionate heart was one of her greatest strengths and a quality he admired deeply in her. No, more than anything else, what Hendrik feared was her _pity_ ; to see a look on her face that proved once and for all that his role in her life had forever changed, that he had become too vulnerable to trust, too powerless to be relied on.

No longer a sword, or a shield, or a sworn protector of her family—but merely a man, with a man’s greatest weakness twisting his heart in his chest at the very sight of her across from him.

“Princess,” he said finally, white-knuckled hands in fists at his sides.

“Don’t,” she interrupted, stilling her arm without looking up. His brow furrowed, taken aback at this unexpected injunction.

The princess’s eyes lifted to his. There was no pity there, true; but what took its place, he could not fathom.

“I don’t want your apology, Hendrik,” she continued, her voice quiet but clear. “We don’t need to talk about it, but I don’t want your apology for last night. Not ever.”

“I…” Hendrik swallowed, his throat sticking strangely. “I understand.”

“Good,” she said, laying down her spoon and pushing back her chair to stand. “We should get ready.”

He followed her upstairs and parted in the hall to enter his room, where he packed his belongings mechanically. His eyes lingered on the rumpled bed for a few beats longer than necessary; then he strapped on his sheathed sword and left.

Princess Jade was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ready?” she asked him.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied, hoisting his pack more securely over his shoulder.

She pulled open the door and they stepped out into the yard, both of them stopping to squint at the brightness of mid-morning.

While they stood, Hendrik felt the faintest brush of a hand against his own. Small fingers briefly interlocked with large before pulling away again, almost as if they had never been there. His heart thumped in his chest and he did not dare look down.

“Let’s go home,” the princess said to her knight, and she started off on the path without a glance back.

Hendrik paused a moment longer, watching her go; a sense of wonder overcame him, at everything she was that he could never possibly have expected.

He followed after her, then, and they headed out into the flower-scented sunshine together.


End file.
